They met on the cusp of winter into spring, when the flowers began to bloom with the soft scent of morning dew. She was sitting in the shade of the burlap canopy, writing gracefully on a small and tattered leather book. He was taking note of the café’s decorations as he waited for his order, and his eyes landed on the lone person sitting on the other side of the glass window. She stood up, brushing her hair back behind her shoulders. He noticed that the ends of her long black hair had a lighter hue of auburn.

 

The girl began to walk away, her notebook tucked under her arm as she fixed her gray scarf. He spotted the black bag on the chair beside the one she was sitting on, and momentarily forgot about his order before running outside and grabbing the purse.

 

It felt feather-light in his hand as he jogged after her. Maybe it was the sensation of pride from doing a good deed for a stranger – regardless of how small – that allowed him to avoid colliding into passersby. Or maybe it was because of some sudden intuition for something unknown that will present itself in the future.

 

He reached out with his free hand and tapped her lightly on the shoulder, his breathing coming out in small pants. She raised an eyebrow at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. He chuckled then and handed her the bag.

 

“I thought you'd want this back.”